You Found Me
by x.savvybizbie.x
Summary: My first story - Sarah Perkins is hired as an assistant to Sweeney Todd after she is thrown out by her husband, but soon finds herself tangled up in a dreadful murder plot. Sort of SweeneyxOC.
1. The Worst Pies in London

**Author's notes: Hi, this is my Sweeney Todd story. I've already finished it, so I'll post the first few chapters now, and if the response is positive then I'll keep going - I should be able to post a chapter a day. This story follows the plot of the movie, seen through the eyes of my OC, Sarah. It's sort of a SweeneyxOC, but it's hard to keep Sweeney in character so it's kind of one sided. I hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sweeney Todd, its characters or its plot. All I own is Sarah and Mark.  
**

**Chapter 1 – The Worst Pies in London**

"Get out!" Mark yelled.

"Why should I? Don't you love me anymore?" I screamed back, anger boiling up inside of me.

"No!" he answered.

I stopped, not sure what to say. He didn't love me anymore?

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice calmer.

"Not again," I muttered.

He looked at me, his beautiful blue eyes full of sympathy.

"I'm _really_ sorry," he said, placing his hand on my shoulder.

I shook it off furiously. After all this, he thought I would just forgive him? I'd been married to him for two whole years, and they weren't exactly fun, especially as it had been arranged by our parents. True, I might have complained about the cottage, or how he never tidied up after himself, but I was still there. I never cheated, or even considered the fact. I might have had other reasons than love for doing that – he was incredibly handsome – but I couldn't see how that mattered. And now he just expected me to go?

"Is there another girl?" I asked feebly.

He shuffled uncomfortably.

"There is?" I cried incredulously. "Who?"

"Come on Sarah; let's not make this any harder than it already is."

"Who's it hard for, Mark?" I asked. "You? Or me? Because I really don't see what's hard about tossing your wife of two years out into the cold, with nowhere to go."

He sighed. I'd heard that sigh before. It was the one he always used whenever I gave him a difficult response.

"It's a lot harder than you think, Sarah. And can't you stay with one of your friends?"

Now it was my turn to sigh. All my 'friends' only liked me because of Mark. It was probably one of those liars that he'd ditched me for. Most likely Scarlett, the most beautiful.

I didn't mention this however. I just snorted.

"You hate me now don't you?" he asked.

"Yes."

I wanted to tell him that it wasn't true, that I loved him deep down and wanted to stay with him. But the words wouldn't come out of my mouth.

"I'll help you pack your things," he offered, trying to be kind.

I paused.

"You expect me to leave now…right this minute?"

I didn't understand. What was the rush?

"Well, I'm afraid so. Sophia will be here in less than an hour."

Sophia? Who on earth was she?

"Sophia?" I asked weakly. "I haven't…I haven't heard of her."

"She's the girl at the grocery shop," he explained.

"The one with the huge boil on the end of her nose?" I cried.

Not only was Mark leaving me, he was leaving me for possibly one of the ugliest girls in London.

Mark glared at me, while talking about how she was very sweet, and he just felt she was better for him than me.

"How so?" I asked, being difficult (and stalling leaving).

"Sarah-" he began.

"Just forget it," I muttered, pushing past him to get to my room.

He called after me, offering to help me. I tried my hardest to ignore me. What was wrong with me? What was it about me that turned men away? Was I ugly? Was I stupid? Was I un-ladylike? Did I have as much charm as a potato?

I dragged my trunk out from under my bed and opened it. I threw in the first dresses, underwear and accessories I could lay my hands on, my kohl pencil, some hair pins, the copy of the Bible that my grandmother gave me, and the small picture of my parents that I had had since they died last year. I then slammed the lid shut and dragged it downstairs.

"Where will you be staying?" Mark asked, as I stood in the doorway.

"I'll find somewhere," I answered.

"Sarah, it's raining. Just stay for half an hour longer," he begged.

I span on my heel.

"One minute I can't get out of the house quick enough, but the second you feel guilty it's 'stay a little bit longer'. I'd rather take my chances with the rain than you, thank you very much."

With that (rather impressive) final speech, I walked out of the door, pulling my ring off at the same time and tossing it at him, then slamming the door shut behind me.

Once I was standing in the middle of the street in the pouring rain, I didn't feel so triumphant. I shivered, my blonde hair clinging to my forehead. A tear made its way down my cheek, leaving black smudges of kohl down my face.

Part of me wanted to run back to the house, but the strong side of me won. It told me to keep on walking, to never look back and think of my losses. Because there were so many of those.

My black boots lead me to Fleet Street, a street I never normally visited. In truth, I had no need to. There was not a doctor, a dress shop, a market, or even a baker. There were mainly worn down old houses, a church, a few grocery stalls, and the odd tavern. I eventually stopped at a building. The peeling gold paint on the black sign above the window read: 'Mrs Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium'. I stopped to look at myself in the window. I looked a mess. My hair was wet to the scalp, and strands had come loose and fallen about my face. My kohl was smudged from rain and tears, and my face was swollen and red. My favourite black dress clung to me like a second skin, the corset over the top felt too tight, and the purple material of my petticoat poking out at the top hung limply – which it wasn't supposed to do.

Suddenly, my green eyes caught sight of a sign in the bottom left corner of the window. 'Help Wanted' it read in bright red letters. I didn't have to think twice, I opened the door and walked in.

I found myself inside a dingy restaurant; the morning light had failed to make its way through the grimy window. The tables and chairs were covered with a light layer of dust, the countertop looked filthy and completely unhygienic.

A small woman in her forties sat a pie and a mug of ale in front of the only customer. She was pale, and the skin surrounding her eyes was dark, like she had barely slept. Her messy curls of auburn hair were piled up on top of her head. She wore a tatty brown dress, a corset pinching her waist in. A large floury smudge trailed across her front, and white powder covered her fingerless mesh gloves.

I then turned my attention to her customer. He was surely the strangest man I had ever seen, but the handsomest too. I was mesmerised. A messy tangle of black hair covered his head, with a shock of white running through it. He too was pale (but weren't we all in London?) with bags under his eyes – the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen, more beautiful than Mark's. They were such a dark shade of brown they were almost black, and held sadness and fear. He had clearly been travelling, for he wore a large leather coat and a satchel rested beside him on the seat.

The woman turned to me.

"Can I help you, dearie?" she asked.

"I'm here to help," I replied, pointing at the sign.

She cheered up when she realised what I meant.

"Oh, how wonderful. My poor knees aren't what they used to be you know love. Now, what days are good for you?"

"I was thinking…every day."

Her brown eyes widened in surprise.

"And maybe…somewhere to stay?" I asked.

She smiled warmly.

"Of course, love. It will be nice to have an extra pair of hands. There's a room down the hall that should suit you. It's a nothing much, but there's a bed and a fireplace. What's in yer case?"

I explained that it was nothing much, just a few clothes, and some knick-knacks.

"Now, the important question is: can you cook?"

I nodded.

"Of course, ma'am. I can also clean and run errands, whatever you want."

She nodded her head slowly, and then studied me carefully.

"Are you alright dear? You look as though you've been crying."

"I'm fine, ma'am."

"Please, call me Nelly. Nelly Lovett's the name. What's yours?"

"Sarah Perkins."

"How old are you, sweetheart?"

"Twenty one, Nelly."

"Nice young thing. So why do you want to stay at this old place, eh?"

"I've nowhere else to go. My husband of two years threw me out. Left me for some other girl," I told her sadly.

"Well the man's an idiot if he threw a pretty thing like you out. Ain't she pretty sir?"

I realised that this question was directed at the man in the booth, who had, up until now, stayed silent.

"Mm," he muttered, nodding.

He placed his pie on his plate with a look of disgust on his face. To my horror, I saw a beetle run out of it.

"Go on dear, sit down over there and I'll get you a nice pie to warm yer bones."

She gestured next to the man.

I sat down uncomfortably, trying to keep my distance. Unfortunately, my foot knocked his shin as I crossed my legs.

"Sorry," I murmured.

He glared at me.

I felt a red blush creep up into my cheeks.

Nelly came to my rescue, setting a pie in front of me.

"So, how are times?" I asked, trying to make polite conversation (and avoid eating the pie).

"Hard," she sighed. "No one dares come here. Would've thought we had the plague or somethin'. Course, these probably are the worst pies in London."


	2. Poor Thing

**Author's notes: I hope you liked the first chapter. As you've probably noticed, it's starting to tie in with the film now. In this chapter, I was trying to change the song 'My Friends', which I love, into dialogue and I had a hard time, so please give me your opinion. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sweeney Todd, its plot or its characters.  
**

**Chapter 2 – Poor Thing**

The man reached for his ale, and took a large swig. He began to cough as soon as he swallowed though, a surprised look on his face.

"Trust me dearie, it's gonna take a lot more than ale to wash that taste down. Come on, I'll get you a nice beaker of gin, eh?" she offered. "You too, love."

I stood up, placing my uneaten pie on the counter. I followed them down a corridor, passing a flight of stairs leading upwards. The man stopped, looking up them. Then he carried on, walking into a sitting room.

It was rather mismatched, the walls covered in various objects and pictures, an old piano against one wall and a sofa against another. Mrs Lovett walked towards a dresser and poured out three glasses of gin.

"Ain't this homey now? The cheery wallpaper was a real bargain, it was only partly singed when the chapel burnt down," she chattered, offering a glass to us both and gesturing for us both to sit down.

The man sat on a chair across from the sofa Nelly and I were perched on.

"You've got a room over the shop haven't you?" he asked casually. "If times are so hard, why don't you rent it out?"

"What, up there?" Nelly asked, nodding her head upwards. "Nah, I wouldn't go near it."

"Why not?" I asked curiously.

"People think it's haunted," she answered, eyes wide.

"Haunted?" whispered the man, a strange look in his dark eyes.

"Yeah. And who's to say they're wrong? You see, years ago, somethin' happened up there…somethin' not very nice."

You could tell this was a story she told often, but we both listened intently.

"There was a barber who lived there. Beautiful man he was, real artist with a blade. But they transported him to Australia for life…we all thought he was gone for good. Barker his name was…Benjamin Barker."

"What was his crime?" I asked.

"Foolishness," was her simple answer. "He had a wife you see. Pretty little thing, silly though. She had the chance for a perfect life. But there was this Judge, and he wanted her like mad. He'd send her a flower every day, but she'd never come down from her room, just sat there and sobbed."

"How awful," I whispered.

"There's worse yet, love. You see, one day, the Beadle called on her, all polite. He told her that the Judge was sincerely sorry, and blamed himself for everything that had happened. He invited her to his house, said she _must_ go. But of course, when she gets there she discovers that they're having this masked ball. There was no one she knew, and she just wandered through the room and drank, the poor thing. She asked everyone where Judge Turpin was, coz she couldn't see him. But he was there…just not so contrite. She wasn't a match for him, and everyone thought it was so droll. They just figured she had to be daft, just stood there watching and laughing. Of course-"

But she was cut off by a yell from the man.

"No! Would no one have mercy on her?"

Anger now filled his eyes, as he towered over me and Nelly.

"So it is you…Benjamin Barker," Nelly whispered, amazed.

"Where's Lucy? Where is my wife?" he asked.

"She poisoned herself," she muttered. "Arsenic, from the apothecary 'round the corner. I tried to stop her…And he's got yer daughter."

"He?" Sweeney looked at Mrs Lovett, his face a mixture of sadness, anger, and confusion. "Judge Turpin?"

"Took her in like one of his own." She replied.

He pulled his jacket off and tossed it onto the chair, while muttering:

"Fifteen years, sweating, and living hell on a false charge. Fifteen years dreaming I might come home to a wife and child."

Tears filled my eyes as I heard the conversation before me. It was so terrible. Nelly stood up.

"Well, I can't say the years have been particularly kind to you, Mr Barker."

"No!" he cried again. "Not Barker. That man is dead. It's Todd now. Sweeney Todd. And he will have his revenge."

Mrs Lovett stared at him for a minute, before simply saying:

"Follow me."

She led him back to the shop, me following behind. She opened the door and showed us out to the streets, before taking us up the rickety wooden steps leading to the old shop above.

"I'm sorry, Mr Todd," I said as we walked up the stairs.

He turned to face me.

"About what?"

"Everything that's happened. It's so sad."

"Just be grateful it's not you whose life has been ruined," he snapped, then turned and walked to the balcony outside the door.

As he got there he paused, and looked around him, shadows of memories reflected in his eyes. I was half-shocked by his rudeness, half-understanding. I decided to let it go, just this once.

"Come on love," said Mrs Lovett. "Nothing to be afraid of."

He walked in, the same haunted look still on his face. I followed, gasping at what I saw. The room was once well-loved, that was obvious. The faded wallpaper was once sunshine yellow, the dusty cot once contained a beautiful child. The mirror in the corner wasn't always cracked; the wooden floor was once polished. Mr Todd walked to the old cot, lifting back the old blanket. I wasn't sure what was in there, but it obviously brought back memories. Nelly however crouched down on the floor, in front of a huge skylight that looked down on the street. She began to pry open a floor board.

I walked towards a dresser which had nothing on it except a double photo frame, both containing pictures of a pretty young woman holding a small baby. I picked it up gently in my fingers, holding it up to my face. I heard a thud but didn't turn around, my tear-filled eyes gazing at who I guessed was Lucy and his daughter.

"Put it down," a voice ordered me.

I set it back down and turned to face Mr Todd. He was glaring at me from next to Mrs Lovett. Then he crouched down next to her. I joined them. Nelly was holding an engraved metal box. She handed it to him. Frowning, he opened it, and gasped. So did I. Because inside, were six razors, shimmering silver with detailed handles. They were beautiful.

"When they came for the girl I hid 'em. I could of sold 'em, but I didn't," Mrs Lovett stated. "Those handles is chased silver ain't they?" she breathed, watching Sweeney carefully pull one out.

"Silver…yes," he muttered, for the first time a smile creeping across his face.

"They're…" I couldn't think of the words.

"My friends," Mr Todd murmured.

"Beg pardon?" I asked, not knowing what he was talking about.

"These blades are my friends," he repeated. "They're faithful to me," Me and Nelly exchanged glances, watching as he stood up and walked across the room, the open razor still in his hand. "They know what I've been through, being locked out of sight all these years. But now I've come home, to find them waiting. We're together and we'll do wonders…won't we?"

I was having my doubts about the sanity of Mr Sweeney Todd. Mrs Lovett on the other hand, stood up and walked towards him.

"I'm your friend too, Mr Todd," she began, as he stared at his 'friend'. I wasn't sure if he was actually listening.

She rested her hand on his shoulder.

I frowned. Nelly had feelings for him too? "I'm so glad you've come home. I always had a fondness for you."

He walked back towards me and knelt down again. I shuffled away from him. I could tell by the glazed look in his eyes that he hadn't been listening to a word Nelly had said – which was probably just as well.

"Don't you worry, Mr T. You can move in here, with me and Sarah," At least she hadn't forgotten me. "Don't they shine beautiful?" she whispered, looking at his razors.

"You'll soon drip rubies…" he murmured.

I frowned. What did he mean by that? Suddenly I realised. Blood…rubies. Oh my goodness.

I think it was only then when he noticed Mrs Lovett, after spying her reflection in his razor.

"Leave me," he said to her, so quiet I could barely hear.

She stood up slowly, beckoning for me to come too.

I stood also, interrupted by his voice:

"Leave the girl."

Nelly smiled sympathetically before leaving, shutting the door after her. I watched her leave, dreading what Mr Todd might say. When I turned around, he was standing by the window, holding his arm out, admiring the razors dazzling shine. Then he turned to face me, pocketing the razor.

"So you're working for Mrs Lovett?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Do you really think she needs help? What with me being the first customer she's had in weeks?"

"What are you getting at?"

"I've decided to re-open my shop. I want you to help me."

I gaped.

"Well, it's not really fair to leave Nelly on her own-"

He snorted.

"Why do you need me so much? Why not someone else?" I said quickly, making up excuses.

"Pretty girl attracts customers," he said casually, shrugging.

I felt myself blushing.

"You can start after you've told Mrs Lovett the change in plans," he informed me, placing his hand on the back of my neck and leading me out of the shop. "Because you will work for me."

And then it was official. I was working for handsomest, most terrifying man I knew. And the one thought going through my mind was help.


	3. Pirelli's Miracle Elixir

**Author's notes: This is Chapter 3! It's a bit longer than the others and takes place around the market scene. It's one of my personal favourites, so I hope you enjoy it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sweeney Todd, its characters or its plot.  
**

**Chapter 3 – Pirelli's Miracle Elixir**

"Nelly, I feel awful leaving you."

"Not to worry love. After all, I don't really get many customers," she said with a smile.

"I still feel bad. Maybe I should just tell Mr Todd that I'm staying with you," I decided. She was such a sweet woman, and I wasn't just going to leave her on her own.

"I don't think that's the best idea, dearie. Don't want to get on the wrong side of Mr T," she warned. "Why don't you work for him, and if he doesn't have any customers for a bit you could come and help me, eh?"

I nodded, defeated.

"Now hurry on, don't keep the man waiting!"

I was halfway out of the door before she called out:

"Tell Mr T we're going to the market, will you love? Then come down and get yourself ready. It's chilly out there."

I turned around.

"Why are we going to the market?"

"To get some equipment for Mr Todd. And there's something I want to show him."

I trudged miserably up the stairs to Mr Todd's shop. I knocked nervously on the door. He opened it, frowning. When he realised it was me, he stood out of the way and let me in.

For what seemed like an age we stood in silence. Then I said:

"Mrs Lovett told me to tell you that we're going to the market."

"What for?"

"Equipment for you. And she wants to show you something, but she wouldn't say what."

He nodded.

"How old did you say you were, Miss Perkins?"

"Twenty one sir."

He nodded slowly.

"What was his name?" he asked.

I was slightly confused as to why he was asking these questions, but thought it best to answer.

"My husband's?" I asked. He nodded. "Mark Perkins," I replied sadly.

"Did you love him?"

I nodded quickly, but Mr Todd raised an eyebrow.

"Not really." I muttered, truthfully.

"Then why did you stay with him?"

"For so many reasons," I started, before I broke down in sobs. Mr Todd did nothing just stood and watched, obviously expecting a proper answer. "Oh goodness, I was such a fool to stay with him. I just did because it gave me somewhere warm to stay, and I had enough money to get by. And all the other lads I'd been with before him just used me. Oh, and of course it was arranged by our parents, so I couldn't disappoint them. I thought I was lucky, because it seemed that I'd found someone who actually appreciated me, even though it wasn't his choice. And – this is going to sound really stupid – he was so handsome. All these girls who never gave me a second glance suddenly wanted to be my friend. And I knew they were only doing that for Mark, but at least I didn't feel like the odd one out. I was the one all the beautiful women envied. I guess I just stayed because…oh, I don't know!"

That had been incredibly hard for me to say, as I was crying liking a child the whole time, sitting on the trunk against one wall. Sweeney had watched me sincerely the whole time, not making a move to comfort me. Eventually he spoke.

"You'd best get ready if we're going out. Your make-up has smudged."

I wasn't sure, but I thought there might have been sympathy in those cold, beautiful eyes. Oh, what was I thinking? I was terrified of the man, and now I was back to calling him handsome? He placed a hand on my back and lead me towards the door, then pushed me out, shutting it behind me.

I took my suitcase from the kitchen into what Mrs Lovett told me was my room. She was right, it wasn't much, but it would certainly do. In fact, it was quite similar to the sitting room where we'd had our gin.

I placed the trunk on my bed and opened it. I placed the Bible on the stand beside my bed, along with the picture. I placed my hair pins and kohl on the dressing table and hung my dresses and underwear in the wardrobe. All the few accessories I'd packed went in a cupboard.

"Hurry up love!" I heard Nelly's voice shout from the kitchen.

I quickly washed my face in the wash bowl, and then applied some more kohl. I perched my black and purple hat on my head, and fastened a purple gem pendant around my neck (which had been a present from Mark). I remembered what Nelly had said about it being cold, and pulled my black coat on over my dress and slipped my thin hands into a pair of black lace gloves.

"I'm done!" I called, walking into the kitchen. Mrs Lovett had tidied herself up, and Sweeney was wearing the leather coat again.

"About time too," teased Nelly. "Come on, let's go."

We walked through the streets of London, me in between Mrs Lovett and Mr Todd. We looked like a strange family.

We stopped at various shops, first a barbering shop. There we found a belt with loops and holsters to place his equipment in. He put it on before we had even bought it, slipping his razor into the slot. We also bought a cloth, a sheet to cover the customers with, a strop for sharpening the blade (which went on the belt) and a bowl and brush for applying the shaving foam. Mrs Lovett placed these in her basket. We stopped at other shops, buying essentials for Mr Todd's room – such as blankets and a kettle, food for us all, and some new petticoats for me.

We were walking towards St Dunstan's market when Mrs Lovett remembered that she'd forgotten to buy flour.

"You two go to the market on your own. Mr Todd, take care of Sarah please."

I rolled my eyes.

"I'm not a child Nelly," I smiled.

"I know you're not love, just don't want anything to happen to you," she said. Then she checked Mr Todd wasn't listening, before whispering to me: "You know the barber who's here every Tuesday?" I nodded. "Make sure Mr T sees him. And look after me basket too."

"Yes ma'am."

Then she was walking back in the direction of the food shop.

"Come on then Mr Todd, let's go to the market."

He offered his arm to me. I looked at him, confused.

"I'm looking after you," he reminded me.

I took his arm, feeling a blush form on my cheeks. _Again_.

"What's so important that we see here?" he asked, as we walked past the people selling their various items, towards a stage in the centre of the square.

"Oh, just a barber. Here every Tuesday. Italian. Best barber in London, they say."

He sighed, but said nothing.

The stage was relatively large, with a large sign which read: 'Adolfo Pirelli, King of the Barbers, Barber of Kings'.

Suddenly, I felt Sweeney tense.

"What is it?" I asked.

He jerked his head in the direction of a fruit stall.

"The Beadle?"

He nodded.

The Beadle was a horrible man, strutting around town like he owned the place. I realised he must have had a part to play in Benjamin's arrest, as he was the Judge's partner in crime.

Then I realised Mr Todd was pulling the razor out of the holster.

"Wait!" I cried.

He glared at me, but put the blade back in its place. I sighed, relieved. It would have been terrible if he made a scene in front of the crowds.

Luckily, a boy walked on stage banging a drum. All eyes turned to him, including Mr Todd's. Crowds began to gather, interested in whatever this boy was selling. He tossed away the drum, and began to call out to the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention perlease? Do you wake every morning in utter despair, to discover yer pillow is covered with the very hairs from yer head? Well, ladies and gents, from now on you can awaken at ease, coz I have in my hand something wot is both marvellous and rare! And it performed a miracle on me very head. "

He was a small boy, couldn't have been more than fourteen. With his last words, he bowed down, pulling off the bowler hat on his head, revealing long golden curls. The crowd laughed, but me and Mr Todd exchanged un-amused glances. There was something about the lad which attracted the crowds. He had a strong London accent too, which added to his charms.

He pulled a few bottles of yellow liquid out of his pockets and tossed them into the crowd, continuing to talk.

"Its name is Pirelli's Miracle Elixir. Give Pirelli's a try; I guarantee that you'll soon have to thin yer hair once a week!"

Soon the bottle reached Mr Todd. He pulled out the cork and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Pardon me miss, but what's that awful smell?" he casually asked me.

Deciding to play along I replied:

"Must be standing near an open drain."

He nodded in agreement.

The boy however, glared at us.

"Pirelli's will make slick hair instantly thick! I promise you that you'll soon have yer pick of the girls!"

Mr Todd was still examining the bottle.

"I wouldn't touch that if I was you, dear," I warned.

"It's piss!" he declared. The crowd began to laugh, including me. "Looks like it, smells like it. It's nothing but piss with ink."

"Let Pirelli's stimulate the growth sir!" cried the boy, trying to draw the crowd's attention back to him.

"Keep it off your boots sir, it'll eat right through," said Sweeney, passing the bottle on to the man next to him.

"Ladies seem to love it!" the boy cried.

"Flies do too!" I contributed. The crowd laughed harder at this, and to my surprise (and delight) Sweeney was smiling too.

The laughter stopped however when the curtains at the back of the stage were flung open and a tall man in a tight blue suit with gold embellishing stepped out. He was clearly Italian, a tall black top hat on top of his dark curly hair. A colourful silk cloak fanned out behind him and he held a gold cane.

"I am Adolfo Pirelli," he announced. "I am da King of da Barbers, da Barber of Kings, and I wish-a to know who says my elixir is piss! Who says zis?" He was clearly angry, but the Italian accent and bright costume added comedy to the situation.

All heads turned towards Mr Todd and me. I nudged him.

"I do," he said. "I am Mr Sweeney Todd of Fleet Street."

He began to push his way through the crowds so that he was standing in front of Pirelli.

"I have opened a bottle of Pirelli's Elixir," he continued. "And I say to you, it is nothing but an errant fraud, concocted from piss and ink. And furthermore 'Signor', I have serviced no kings, yet I wager I can shave a cheek with ten times more dexterity than any street mountebank."

I whistled under my breath. That was impressive.

Sweeney pulled his razor and an extra one (where he got that from I don't know) out of the holsters on his belt. He turned to face the crowd.

"You see these razors? I lay them against five pounds," he turned back to Pirelli. "You are no match sir."

Pirelli stared intently at the razors for a few seconds, then pulled away smiling.

"You hear zis foolish man? Now please, you will see how he will regret his folly!" he tore off his cloak, tossing it in a heap on the stage. "Toby!" he cried, banging his stick on the stage.

The little boy ran onto the stage and began setting it up, with two chairs and various items for Pirelli.

Sweeney walked towards me. I handed the sheet to him.

"Good luck," I smiled, winking.

As he walked back to the stage, he stopped. Turning round to face the crowd, he asked:

"Will Beadle Bamford be the judge?"

I groaned. He had a dangerous look in his eyes, and I knew this wasn't good.

"Glad, as always to oblige my friends and neighbours," lied the Beadle in his slimy voice.

Mr Todd was smiling as he walked towards his chair.

"Who wants a free shave?" he asked the audience.

Two men were picked from the crowd and sat down in the chairs that had been set down for them. I noticed Pirelli's sheet was the Italian flag. Show off. Mr Todd was handed a brush and a pot of shaving cream by Toby, as was Pirelli.

"The fastest, smoothest shave, is the winner!" cried the Beadle, blowing on a small whistle from around his neck.

Then Sweeney attached his strop to the chair and began slowly sharpening his razor, stopping every now and again to examine it. Pirelli spent just a few seconds sharpening his, before messily applying the cream.

I couldn't believe my eyes. Why wasn't Mr Todd starting? Pirelli was already shaving his customer, and Mr Todd hadn't even finished sharpening.

"It requires da flair, da passion for da art…"boasted Pirelli. Mr Todd had finally started to apply the cream.

"For if you slip, you rip da skin beyond-a repair. Zis talent, zis grace was given to me by God -"

Pirelli was interrupted by cheers from the crowd. I turned my attention to Mr Todd. He was finished! I had been so busy watching Pirelli I'd failed to notice that Mr Todd had even started shaving. He obviously hadn't lost his talent.

"The winner is Todd!" called the Beadle, after making a quick inspection.

I walked towards Sweeney, smiling.

He pocketed his razor, a rare smile on his face. Pirelli stepped up to him.

"I bow to a skill far greater than my own," he muttered, bowing low.

"The five pounds," replied Sweeney, gesturing with his fingers.

Pirelli grimaced, pulling a note out of his intricate velvet purse. Sweeney tucked it into his pocket quickly.

"May the Good Lord smile on you, until we meet again."

Sweeney ignored him, turning to face me.

"Well done," I congratulated him.

We turned to go, but I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"And who is zis?"

I turned slowly.

Pirelli was smiling at me, his long-fingered hand on my shoulder.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Sweeney stopped him.

"Get your filthy hands off her!" he snapped.

Pirelli frowned, but removed his hand. I sighed in relief.

"Come boy!" he cried furiously. The boy quickly came to Pirelli, and to my horror was greeted by a smack across his face.

"Let's go," Sweeney muttered, walking away.

I followed him obediently, eventually working up the nerve to say thank you.

"You're welcome," was his flat reply, not bothering to look at me or even show any emotion.

We were almost out of the market when he was stopped by a man.

"Congratulations Mr…Todd, is it? I assume you have your own establishment?" He was obviously relatively well-off, and to my amusement Mr Todd did not reply, just stared at the man.

"Yes he does, just above Mrs Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium on Fleet Street," I answered for him. The man nodded, satisfied, and walked away. I turned to Mr Todd, only to see him a few steps away, talking to…Beadle Bamford! I hurried over; I couldn't let anything bad happen.

"Your establishment is in Fleet Street you say?" asked the Beadle.

He was a short, rather overweight man, with blonde straggly hair and large yellow teeth. Not a pretty picture.

"Yes sir."

"Then you shall surely see me there before the week is out," he said.

"You will be welcome Beadle Bamford. And I can guarantee you without a penny's charge, the closest shave you will ever know."

The Beadle smiled, before strutting away to speak to one of the stall owners. Sweeney watched him disappear.

When Sweeney finally turned to face me he was smiling.

"I've got the Beadle," he said, his voice just a whisper.

"Not yet," I pointed out. "You still have to wait for him to come and see you…"

He silenced me with a glare.

"You've got him," I agreed.

**Author's notes: So there are the first few chapters, thank you for reading this far. Please review, if the response is positive then I will continue to frequently update this story x**


	4. Wait

**Author's notes: Chapter 4! Thank you to Neighbourhood Squirrals for your kind review, because of you I'm updating! I hope you enjoy this chapter - it contains the first death...it's getting exciting!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sweeney Todd, its characters or its plot.  
**

**Chapter 4 – Wait**

"And then he shaved the man in a few seconds! No one could believe their eyes!"

"I see he ain't lost his touch yet then," smiled Mrs Lovett.

I was recalling the story of his triumph to her, and she admitted that she wished she'd been there.

She set a few slices of bread, with some meat and cheese onto a plate.

"Take this to Mr T please love."

I took the plate from her and made my way upstairs. I used the short time to think about how I felt about Mr Todd. He was handsome, I wouldn't deny that. And when he was in a good mood, I found that he was quite nice to be around. But those good moods could quickly disappear, and he was very frightening when he was angry. And obviously he would never feel anything for me, as he was still pining for Lucy.

I didn't bother to knock when I reached the door, which I soon discovered was a mistake.

"Knock before entering," he told me. "What do you want?"

"I am you're assistant, I have every right to be in here."

"Not without my permission you don't."

"I brought you lunch," I informed him coldly. I didn't realise he was always so rude!

He grunted in response. I set the plate down on his dresser which I noticed now had a wash bowl and his razors on as well as the photo. Mrs Lovett and I had also dragged an old chair up for him, as well as a trunk and we also tidied the place. The room was still rather dingy, but relatively bright due to the skylight.

He had a stone for sharpening his blades in his hand, and was using it while looking out of the large window.

"Lovely chair, don't you think?" I said, making conversation. I received another grunt in response. "It was Nelly's husbands. Apparently he used to sit in it all day long, before his leg gave out with gout."

This was obviously of no interest to him.

"Why doesn't the Beadle come? Before the week is out, that's what he said."

"He only said that a couple of hours ago! And who said the week's out, it's still only Tuesday, just like when he asked you."

He didn't appreciate my attitude, tossing the stone into a corner and storming across the room.

"Calm down," I said walking towards him, resting my hand on his shoulder. "You've got to wait for the right moment. And time does go quickly, see now is here…and now it's past! The time'll come, and it'll be worth the wait, you'll see."

He turned to face me.

"And the Judge? When'll we get to him?"

"Can't you think of anything else?" I asked, exasperated. "Come on, half of the fun is planning the plan. Just wait."

He nodded doubtfully. Changing the subject, I said:

"It's so dull in here. It needs something to brighten it up, flowers or something. You know daisies, or gillyflowers."

I was interrupted by footsteps coming up the stairs. They were too heavy to have been Nelly's. Mr Todd swiftly hid beside the door, so that when the door was opened it would cover him.

"Mr Todd, I-"

A young man who must've been my age or a bit older, rushed into the shop. He had long fair hair, and was a good couple of inches taller than me.

"Oh, I'm sorry ma'am, excuse me," he apologized, stepping out of the shop.

"Don't worry. I'm Sarah, Sarah Perkins."

"A pleasure," he said, bowing.

To my relief, Sweeney stepped out from behind the door. Anthony seemed relieved too.

"Mr Todd, there's a girl who needs your help. Such a sad girl and lonely, but beautiful too-"

"Slow down son," said Sweeney calmly, leading him towards the chair.

"Yes, I'm sorry. This girl has a guardian who keeps her locked away, but then this morning she dropped this" he held up a key. "Surely a sign Johanna wants me to help her. That's her name, Johanna and Turpin is her guardian – he's a Judge of some sort." At the mention of the Judge Sweeney and I exchanged glances. "Once he goes to court, I'm going to break into the house, release her and beg her to come away with me tonight!"

"Oh, this is very romantic," I smiled.

"Yes," he agreed, turning to me. "But I don't know anyone in London you see," he continued, turning back to Mr Todd. "And I need somewhere safe to bring her until I've hired a coach to take us away. If I could keep her here, just for an hour or two, I'd be forever in your debt!"

"Bring her here Mr…" I started, then realised I didn't know his name.

"Hope, Anthony Hope. Oh, thank you, Miss Perkins, thank you so much! Is that alright Mr Todd?"

He could only nod.

"Thank you my friend!" cried Anthony, vigorously shaking Mr Todd's hand. Then he left in a hurry.

As soon as he shut the door, it was opened again by Nelly.

"Who was he?"

"Sailor who helped me get here. Anthony," he answered; a shocked look on his face.

"He's bringing his daughter here," I explained.

"Well there you go, Mr T, you'll soon have your daughter back. Looks like the fates are favouring you at last."

"What about him?" he asked.

"Him? Well, since you're so hot for a little…" she dragged her finger across her throat. "That's the throat to slit my dear."

"Nelly, you can't possibly…" I was appalled. "That sweet young man? What's he done to deserve death?"

Nelly shrugged, standing by Mr Todd, who was looking out of the smaller window.

"Hello, what's he doing here?"

When I joined them, I saw Pirelli and the boy walking towards the shop.

"Keep the boy downstairs," Sweeney muttered to Nelly. "Bring Pirelli up," he then said to me.

We both hurried out of the shop and down the stairs to be greeted by the couple.

"Is Mister Todd in?" asked Pirelli.

"He's upstairs," I answered. "Follow me."

"Aw, look at that," Nelly cooed, looking at Toby. "Mind if I give him a nice juicy meat pie?"

"Ci, ci, ci, whatever you want," he replied casually, following me up the rickety steps.

When we reached the door I knocked.

"Come in," Mr Todd's voice called.

I opened the door to reveal him brushing down the chair.

"Look who came to see you!"

"Mister Todd," Pirelli said, pushing past me.

"Signor Pirelli," he muttered.

"Call me Davy," Pirelli smiled, changing to a London accent. "Davy Connor's the name when it ain't professional. And I'll be having me five quid back if you don't mind."

Seeing the once-again shocked face of Sweeney, I spoke for him.

"Why?"

"Because, your friend here entered our little wager on false pretences, didn't you…Mr Benjamin Barker."

"How did you…" It was my turn to be shocked.

Sweeney turned away, facing the skylight.

Connor chuckled.

"You don't remember me do you? Well, why should you? I was just a little nipper you hired to help around the shop, sweeping up hair and stuff. But I remember these," he picked up one of the razors from there case. "And how could I ever forget you? I used to sit right here," he sat down in the corner by the dresser. "And watch you, dreaming of when I could be a proper barber."

"What do you want from him?" I asked, as Sweeney walked towards the kettle on the small oven Nelly and I had set up.

"What do I want? Well, I want half of his earnings. Share and share alike. Or should I just run down the street to my pal, Beadle Bamford? So what do you say, Mister Sweeney Todd?" He laughed; an evil laugh which filled me with hatred for him. This was blackmail!

And then it happened. I saw Sweeney's eyes narrow, and then he grabbed the kettle and swung it at Connor's head. He fell to the ground coughing, a large cut on his forehead. But Sweeney wasn't finished; he kept hitting him with the kettle until he was unconscious. I had never seen such rage in a man before. He dropped the kettle on the floor, the water mingling with the blood and then collapsed onto his chair, panting heavily.

"Are you just going to sit there?" I asked, amazed. "Because someone downstairs will have heard that, and they're going to come and see what's going on. So get off your backside and do something with the body while I clean the place up."

He glared at me for a moment, but got up and began to drag the body towards the trunk.

"Where do you keep your cloths?" I asked, looking for something to clean the blood up with.

He gestured towards the drawer in the dresser, where I found a few clean white cloths. I picked one up and mopped up the mess on the floor, then refilled the kettle with the jug by his washbowl.

"Want a cup of tea?" I asked.

He nodded, still breathless after heaving the body into the chest, and sat back down.

I had just poured a mug of tea, when I heard frantic footsteps and the door open. It was Toby, the boy. To my confusion, his blonde locks were replaced with short brown hair, and I could only assume it was a wig to fool customers.

"Signor, you got an appointment…" he started, stopping when he saw Pirelli wasn't in the room.

"Signor Pirelli's been called away on urgent business love, you'd best run after him," I lied, handing the mug to Sweeney.

"No I should stay here, or it'll be a lashing for me. He's a good one for the lashings." He sat himself down on the chest.

I felt Sweeney (who had stood up next to me) tense. I looked at him confused, and he moved his eyes towards the direction of the trunk. Next to where Toby was sitting, Pirelli's pale hand hung out under the lid, one long finger twitching sickeningly.

"So Mrs Lovett gave you a pie did she?" I asked, trying to keep the boy's attention on us.

"Yes ma'am."

"Well if I know a growing boy, there's always room for more pie, eh? So why don't you go and wait for your master downstairs, there'll be another pie in it for you I'm sure." said Mr Todd, trying to be kind, yet there was something menacing about him.

"No sir, I really should wait here."

I could tell Sweeney really wanted to yell at the boy, and was trying incredibly hard not to.

"Well, why don't you tell Mrs Lovett that we said to give you a nice big tot of gin?" I asked, smiling warmly.

"Thank you!" he cried, jumping up and out of the door. Sweeney slammed it shut behind him. I sighed in relief.

"That was too close."

Sweeney set his mug down, and moved towards the trunk.

"What are you doing?"

He opened the trunk, and I watched as Pirelli (or Connor), pale and bruised, attempted to climb out. Sweeney pressed his hand to his forehead, tipping his whole head back and reached for his razor.

"Mr Todd, don't!" I warned.

But he didn't listen, and slowly pulled the razor along his neck. I watched in horror as the blood spurted out, and Pirelli gurgled sickeningly.

That was all I could remember before I fainted, landing on the hard floor.

**Author's notes: I've watched it twelve times so far, but I'm still not sure about the bit where Pirelli's identity is revealed, so tell me if I've made any mistakes. Please review, I hope you liked it x**


	5. The Judge

**Author's notes: In this chapter, Sarah will have her first of a few tantrums to come. Also, Judge Turpin will be arriving, and Sweeney will have his first epiphany. How will Sarah react? P.S. I loved your joke, Neighbourhood Squirrals, lol. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sweeney Todd, its plot or its characters.  
**

**Chapter ****5 – The Judge**

I woke up to find myself on a chair. It was soft and…red. Like something else…what was it? Then it hit me. Sweeney Todd was a murderer. I'd known he had it in for the Judge, but had Pirelli really deserved death?

Then his face was in front of mine. To me it no longer seemed handsome, but twisted and ugly.

"Stay away from me!" I screamed.

He backed off. I could see something in his eyes; was it anger or…hurt?

"Oh good, you're awake."

Never had I been so glad to see Nelly in the few hours I'd known her.

"Oh Nelly!" I cried, jumping up and wrapping my arms around her. I began to cry.

"Shh love, it's alright. Just gave you a fright, that's all. All that blood; must've been a shock."

I pulled away, turning to face Mr Todd. I was terrified, but my anger drove me to confront him.

"Why did you kill him?"

"What was I supposed to do? He was trying to blackmail me, half me earnings!"

"That was no reason to kill him!"

"If I hadn't he'd just've run along to the Beadle and then we'd all be in trouble!"

"Surely hitting him around the head with a kettle taught him that you weren't to be messed with!"

I was bordering on hysterical by now.

"Calm down now love, you know Mr T wanted to kill the Judge…" said Nelly, her voice calm.

"That was different. The Judge and the Beadle deserved it after what they'd done. But Pirelli…or Connor or…whatever his name was hadn't done enough to deserve what happened!"

"We all deserve to die Miss Perkins, don't forget that," muttered Mr Todd, walking towards me. "Now shut your mouth, stop crying and grow up! You work for me, so pull yourself together and stop shouting."

I was appalled. I had never been spoken too so rudely. I pouted for a moment, before deciding to follow his advice. You could only be cross with those eyes for so long, especially when they were glaring daggers at you.

"Now, what shall we do about the boy?" asked Nelly.

"Send him up," he murmured, staring at the freshly polished murder weapon in his hand.

"Now Mr T, surely one's enough for today. And anyway, you don't have to worry about him, he's a simple thing."

"Send him up!" he snapped.

I had to say something.

"I know you want me to shut my mouth Mr Todd but…" I began calmly. "Do you have any idea what you're saying? You want to kill an innocent boy?" I practically screamed at him.

He began to move towards me, but Nelly stepped in, trying a different approach.

"Mr T, you know I was thinking of hiring a lad to help me around the shop, since you've got Sarah and all. Me poor knees aren't what they used to be you know."

"Alright," he grunted.

The pressure of two women, one bordering on hysterical for the second time in a few minutes, seemed to convince him to let Toby live.

"Of course we'll have to stock up on the gin," Said Nelly, almost to herself. I moved towards the small window. "Boy drinks like a sailor."

Suddenly my eyes opened wide when I saw who was coming towards the shop.

"The Judge!" I gasped.

Mr Todd looked out to see for himself.

He smiled, then realised we were both still standing there.

"Get out!" he hissed to us.

We both stood there, gaping.

"Get out!" he yelled.

We both made for the door.

"Not you Sarah," he said.

I stopped.

"Mr Todd, I don't want to watch-"

Another one of his glares cut me off. Then I realised what could become a very large flaw in his plan.

"There's blood on your sleeve."

He looked at himself in the mirror, and sure enough, on the white sleeve of his shirt was a large blood stain. He hurriedly pulled on his grey jacket which was lying next to the dresser. Just in time too, as the Judge walked in.

"Mr Todd?" his voice was icy cold.

He was an older man, in his late fifties or early sixties, well dressed yet unshaven.

"At your service," he smiled, bowing.

"Who are you?" he asked, looking at me.

"She's my assistant, Miss Perkins."

I curtsied as he introduced me, and then stepped out of the way.

"An honour to receive your patronage, sir."

"You know me?" asked the Judge curiously.

"Who in this wide world does not know the great Judge Turpin?" I had to admit, Mr Todd was doing a good job of acting, but I could feel the hatred dripping off his tongue.

The Judge smiled. He was great and he knew it.

"The Beadle tells me that you are the most accomplished barber in London, yet these premises are hardly…" he struggled to find words.

"That his gracious of him sir," muttered Sweeney as he took Turpin's coat. His dark eyes were nearly burning holes in the Judge's back.

"You girl, how long have you been working here?"

"Not long, about a week," I sort-of lied.

Sweeney nodded to me, as if saying _thank you_. After all, I couldn't sound like a random girl he found at the market, which I wasn't anyway.

"What may I do for you today sir?"

"You see a man in front of you who is deeply in love. So first sir, I think a shave, to smarten up my appearance."

"Of course sir. Miss Perkins, please fetch me my things," asked Sweeney, politely for once.

I picked up a bowl of shaving cream and a brush while he sharpened his razor. He nodded his thanks to me.

He brushed the cream on, while listening to the big-headed Judge talk about how love could brighten up your life, Sweeney grunting in response, as expected. Butterflies were fluttering madly in my stomach. I wasn't sure how I'd react to another graphic death today. Slowly Sweeney was sharpening his 'friend', when the Judge interrupted both of our thoughts.

"Make haste barber, for if we wed you shall be commended."

"Yes, my Lord. And who is your intended sir?"

"My ward, pretty as a rosebud."

"Pretty as her mother?" I tried to give him a warning look but he himself realised what he had said.

"What was that?"

"Nothing sir, nothing. May we proceed?"

To my great surprise Mr Todd began to shave the man, not slit his throat.

They began talking about women, yet I could see loathing in every action Sweeney performed as he talked.

I braced myself, closing my eyes as Sweeney wrapped his arm around the Judge's neck…

Only to be interrupted by the bell over the shop door ringing. All three of us looked up in surprise, for there stood the last person Sweeney wanted to see.

"Mr Todd, I just saw Johanna and she said she'd run away with me toni-"

Anthony stopped when he realised who was in the chair.

Turpin stood up furiously, wiping the remaining shaving cream off with the sheet.

"Johanna, run away with you? I shall see to it that no man will ever lay eyes on her again! And as for you barber, it is all to clear what company you seek. Service them well and hold their customs, for you shall have none of mine!"

With those words the seething man strode out the door, only stopping to pick up his coat.

"Mr Todd, you have to help me."

"Anthony, I think you should leave," I warned him, seeing the look on Mr Todd's face.

"Mr Todd please-"

"Out."

"Mr Todd!"

"OUT!" he yelled.

Anthony looked at us desperately before running out of the door. Sweeney looked devastated. He'd lost his chance.

Mrs Lovett walked in.

"All this shouting and running about, what's happened?"

"I had him," was his simple response.

"The sailor busted in I know, then I saw them both running down the stairs."

"I had him!" he shouted.

He showed even more anger than when he was hitting Pirelli.

"There, there dear, calm down," soothed Mrs Lovett nervously.

"No! I had him! His throat was right there!"

"Mr Todd, remember what I told you," I attempted.

"What? You told me to wait, and now he'll never come again!" He turned on me now,

"What's the rush?" I asked, terrified.

He turned towards the skylight and began to pace up and down.

"We all deserve to die," he whispered. "All of us. Everyone…"

Then it began - Mr Todd's brief slip into madness. He paced up and down shouting wildly about how everyone deserved to die. Even me, even Nelly, even him. Then he said that he would get the Judge, and he would practice on everyone else while he waited. Then it was how he'd never see Johanna and that Lucy lay in ashes, but the work was waiting and he was full of joy. Obviously.

He acted as though Nelly and I weren't there, ending on his knees, razor in hand.

"That's all very well," said Mrs Lovett, looking towards the trunk that still contained a body. "But what are we going to do about him?"

**Author's notes: I hope you enjoyed it, please review and tell me what you think - also, was the Epiphany bit alright? I didn't quite know how to write it x**


	6. The Second Epiphany

**Author's notes: This chapter's a bit shorter than the others, but I'm afraid you'll have to live with that. Thank you to Neighbourhood Squirrals and chunkymonkey90 for your reviews, I'm glad you're loving this! Here's Chapter 6 especially for you guys - P.S. You'll just have to wait and see Neighbourhood Squirrals, I don't want to give anything away...(mysterious evil laugh) Thanks for the cookie.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sweeney Todd, its plot or its characters  
**

**Chapter 6 – The Second Epiphany**

"Hello? Can you hear me?" Nelly asked.

Nothing. He just stayed there, on his knees, staring blankly into space.

Nelly sighed.

"You great useless thing," she muttered, slipping his arm around her shoulder and trying to lift him. "Help me love," she pleaded.

I slipped his other arm around my shoulder and helped her lift him. Together we managed to get him down the stairs and into the shop. We slipped him into a seat and Nelly went to fetch the gin. She found it in the hand of a sleeping Toby, curled up on the floor of the sitting room. I sat down next to Mr Todd. He had started to become aware of his surroundings by now.

Nelly poured him a glass of gin and put it down in front of him. He sipped it gratefully.

"Now, we got a body, mouldering away upstairs. What do you think we should do about that then?" Nelly asked, sitting next to us.

"Maybe we could tell the doctors that he we found him like that outside the shop," I suggested, but Sweeney had other ideas.

"Later on when it's dark, we'll take it to some secret place and bury it."

"Well I suppose we could do either of those," said Nelly, walking over to the window looking onto Fleet Street. "I don't suppose he's got any relatives who's gonna come poking 'round looking for him. But it does seem a shame…"

"Shame?" Sweeney asked, taking another sip of gin.

"An awful waste…"

"What's a waste?" I asked, confused.

"Old what's-his-name had a nice plump frame, and it can't be traced. And after all, business needs a lift and we've got a few debts that need to be erased. You get my drift?"

I thought for a moment confused. Then I realised what a sick suggestion she was making.

"No Nelly, you can't be thinking-"

"Well why not? Think about the price of meat these days, and that's when you get it, if you get it."

Mr Todd finally caught on.

"Ah!" he gasped.

"Take Mrs Mooney, for instance. Right now her business has never been better and she's just using pussycats and toast! She can get a few bob for a pie too!"

Mr Todd stood up.

"What a charming idea!" he cried.

"Well, it does seem a waste…"

"Practical, appropriate, undetectable… Oh Mrs Lovett, I'll never know how I've lived without you all these years!"

I watched them jealously. I couldn't believe what they were planning, yet I felt rather left out. I decided to make myself heard.

"Isn't there a better solution?" I asked, as calmly as possible.

"Now, Miss Perkins, these are desperate times, and desperate measures are called for," explained Mr Todd, as though that made it acceptable.

"Yes, but-"

I was interrupted by Nelly pulling a fresh pie from the oven and setting it down on the beetle-ridden counter.

"Here we are, hot out of the oven."

"What is that?" He asked, looking at it like he had never seen a pie before.

"Priest," she answered simply. "It's priest."

"Is it good?"

"Oh, too good sir! Pretty fresh too."

"Don't you have poet or something like that?"

"Ah well, the trouble with poet is that you can never tell when it's deceased!"

I was shocked and disgusted. This was pure cannibalism, yet they were talking about it like some sort of a sick joke.

"Lawyer's rather nice," she muttered, looking out of the window for inspiration.

"Expensive though. Anything…leaner?"

"Well, for us loyal Brits there's always Royal Marine. Tastes of its travels, mind you."

"Is that squire over there?"

"No sir, if you look carefully you'll notice it's grocer."

"Looks more like vicar."

"No, it has to be grocer, it's green!"

They moved away from the window, laughing. I realised with a pang in my heart that that was the first time I'd seen Sweeney laugh.

"It will be very gratifying to know that those above will be serving those down below for a change," Mr Todd said.

"Oh yes. And everyone shaves so there'll be plenty of different flavours. And we'll be helping out, saving graves and all that."

He smiled, and looked out of the other window.

"What is that?" he asked, looking at a well-dressed man outside.

"Fop, the finest we have," was her horrible answer. "Or what about shepherds pie, peppered with actual shepherd?"

I felt myself gag in disgust. She walked towards the counter, handing Sweeney various pies.

"And here's one I've just begun. It's politician, mind though it's very oily."

He examined the gloopy pie.

"Too runny."

"Well then how about actor, or friar?"

He gave her a dazzling smile.

"I'll come again when you have Judge on the menu."

She laughed, staring into his eyes.

"Of course, we'll serve anyone, great or small," he added seriously.

"Of course."

I finally couldn't take it.

"Are you both out of your minds?" I yelled. "You're standing here, talking about it like it's a joke, but it's cannibalism, and in most societies it's frowned upon. You're both sick, do you know that? You can't just kill everyone who walks in, and then cook them up into a pie! It's wrong, it's disgusting, it's vile and it's mad! I swear, I will not be a part in this mental plan. If you get caught, you'll both be dead, literally!" I finally couldn't take it, and broke down crying, yet again.

Mrs Lovett pulled me into a hug, which I accepted.

"You're right, love, it's a horrible plan. And while Mr T and I might go through with it, we're not saying you have to. You can just go about as normal, or go if you want. It's fine, really sweetheart."

I nodded, and muttered a thank you. Mr Todd however, was not so sympathetic.

"Let me deal with her."

He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me up to his shop.

"Let me go!" I screamed, hoping to attract the attention of someone on the streets.

He pushed into the room and tossed me onto the chair.

"Listen, Miss Perkins, you work here now and no matter what Mrs Lovett says, you can not just walk out of the door. I don't care what you think about the plan, because you are not in charge and your opinion is irrelevant. So, prepare yourself for you are not getting out of this one by screaming and crying."

I looked at him, terrified. I had learnt in this day not to get in the way of a man with razors.

"Do you understand?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Good. Now fetch me some more gin."

I did as I was told. As much as it sickened me, I had to help. It was that or very unpleasant consequences. I decided that I would not have anything to do with the bodies or the killings, but would help. Surely that would be enough?

And so I found myself, in one long day, pulled into a mass-murder plot. If I was caught, I would be in a lot of trouble. An awful lot.

**Author's notes: Poor Sarah! Please review, it makes my day x**


	7. Goodbye Johanna

**Author's notes: I just went to see Marley and Me with my friends at the cinema and it was so sad - we were all crying (it was kind of embarassing). But enough about me, more about the chapter. This one is one of my favourites and is actually all my own creation - it's based around the song Johanna Reprise, but I couldn't really put that into dialogue so I just came up with this. It's also about the closest Sweeney and Sarah are going to get to being a couple - sorry Neighbourhood Squirrals.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sweeney Todd, its plot or its characters.  
**

**Chapter 7 – Goodbye Johanna**

As the weeks passed, I slowly became used to what we were doing. When I woke up every morning, I'd rush up to see Mr Todd. Believe it or not, we were beginning to become almost what you'd call friends, and would spend the first few hours before customers talking. We'd talk about my life, his life (rarely) and how to kill the Judge.

"Why do you have to kill him?" was the question I asked over and over. My reply was: "Like you said, he deserves it."

It was true, I had said that once, and I really regretted it.

I'd help out with each customer, who were never in the chair more than five minutes before their throat was slit.

There was thing I was thankful to Sweeney for though. He would always ask a customer if they had any family, and if they answered yes, he wouldn't kill them.

One morning when I opened the door, Sweeney was pacing up and down.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I'm trying to think how to make it easier to get the customers into the bakehouse."

He was right; it was a very unpleasant job, having to drag a blood-covered body down the stairs and into the bakehouse. We always had to check the street was quiet too.

"Why don't you rig the chair up so it'll tip back?"

"How will that work?" he asked.

"Well, Nelly told me that there's a chute into the bakehouse from up here, for putting waste scraps down. Look, here's the trapdoor."

He nodded.

"You're a genius," he muttered.

Then he set to work. I closed the shop up for the day, and watched him. He was using levers and cogs and pedals and flaps – it was a mechanical marvel.

He finished at about nine o' clock at night. He'd built it so that when he stamped on the pedal, the chair would tip backwards and the trapdoor would open, sending the body down the chute. It was brilliant.

Our first customer the next day brought his wife and child along. I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that he would leave the shop alive.

I sat down next to them.

"Hello," I smiled, greeting the well dressed woman and her young daughter, who must've been around six.

"Hello," she said, smiling pleasantly. "You're very lucky to have such a husband. Best barber in London, people are saying. Especially since that Italian one disappeared. Who knows where he went…"

"Oh, he's not my husband," I corrected her, blushing.

"Oh, I apologize. Partner?"

"No. I just work for him."

"Oh…Well, I'm very sorry. But he seems like a wonderful man."

"Well he is if you get on the right side of him," I smiled.

She laughed. I decided to speak to the girl.

"Hello sweetheart. What's your name?"

"Hannah."

"Very pretty."

The woman was watching me and smiling.

"You have a way with children, Miss…"

"Perkins. And thank you, I've never had a younger sibling, so I don't know why."

She laughed again. She was a lovely woman.

"It seems Mr Todd is done with your husband," I said, seeing the man stand up.

"Oh, he's not my husband!" she cried, seeming shocked. "He's just a friend of my real husband's."

I felt myself go red as Sweeney glared at me.

When they were gone I said:

"You couldn't have killed him anyway, what with them there."

To my surprise, he wasn't angry.

"I know. It just made me think of Johanna."

I sighed. He was impossible to talk to when he was like that.

The rest of the customers that day were unmarried and alone, except for one. That put Mr Todd in a better mood.

"I'm tired," I yawned.

"Well, get some rest, we won't have many more customers."

"Thank you," I sighed, falling onto his bed.

It wasn't long before I fell asleep.

* * *

"Who's the girl?"

"Just, my wife, Sarah. Keep your voice down please sir, I don't wish to wake her."

The conversation I heard shocked me. Sweeney had called me his wife! Was I dreaming? I couldn't let them know I was awake, so I decided to listen on.

"Pretty little thing isn't she?"

"Yes sir, very pretty."

I felt myself blush at Sweeney's words, but realised that he was probably just playing along.

"Have any family of your own sir?" he asked. This was the life-or-death question.

"No, my wife and son died a few years ago. Terrible accident, the carriage they were in over-turned. I wish they were still here…" He sounded so sad; maybe it would have been better if he was put out of his misery.

"That is a shame sir…"

Then I heard a horrible noise and some gurgling, then the sound of the chair tipping. I heard footsteps coming towards me, and rolled to face them.

When I felt shadow over my face, I opened my eyes.

"Why did you say I was your wife?" I demanded.

He must've jumped a mile. It was quite comical.

"How long have you been awake for?"

"Long enough to hear you call me your wife!"

He sighed awkwardly.

"They always ask. I've just found it the easiest answer," he explained.

I sighed in relief.

"For a moment there I thought you knew something you weren't letting on to."

He chuckled, and wiped the blood of his razor. The sound of the door tinkling made us turn around. And I couldn't believe who I saw there.

"Get out!" I screamed, jumping up.

"Sarah? What are you doing here?" asked Mark, confused.

"Enjoying my life, now get out!"

I marched up to him and slapped him across the face.

"What was that for?"

"What do you think?" he shook his head. "It was for leaving me for some ugly, boil-nosed, grocery girl!"

"I'm sorry, but we split up…"

"Well don't come crawling back to me!" I yelled, lunging for him.

Sweeney grabbed me and pulled me back.

"Get out," he calmly told Mark.

He nodded and left, looking at me uncomfortably.

"And don't come back!" I called after him.

Mr Todd didn't release me until he had disappeared round the corner.

I sighed madly and threw myself on the bed. He shut the door, turning the sign to closed.

"I've never seen you so cross," he laughed, clearly amused, sitting next to me on the bed.

"The nerve of that man!" I huffed.

"You've never shouted at me like that before…"

I looked at him.

"Yes, and you've done some very stupid things. But believe me, I've wanted to."

"Never slapped me before either."

"I've learnt not to slap a man with razors."

He laughed. A proper laugh too, like when he and Nelly came up with the pie idea.

Then it stopped, as suddenly as it started. He walked towards the dresser and picked up the photo, sitting down in the chair with it. He ran his fingers across the glass, leaving small trails of blood from the last customer.

"Don't do that, you'll make it dirty," I sighed, pulling it out of his hands. I placed it back on the dresser and looked into his miserable face.

"Don't give up hope completely on Johanna; you still might see her one day."

"No," he muttered. "She'd just be beautiful and pale, like her mother."

"What's wrong with that?"

"She'd look too much like her…"

"Well, even though she's gone, she's still yours. You're still her father."

He nodded.

"I'm getting used to the truth. Maybe it's best that way."

I smiled.

"Maybe it is. Goodnight Mr Todd."

I stood up to leave, planting a kiss on his cheek as I left. He looked at me surprised.

"Goodnight Sarah."

But as I shut the door, I heard his soft words –

"Goodbye Johanna."

**Author's notes: Yet another Sarah tantrum. I hope I managed to keep Sweeney in character, but I like the idea of him having a friend - he seems so lonely (sigh). Please review x**


	8. By The Sea

**Author's notes: There are only a couple of chapters left after** **this (sob), so I hope you enjoy this one! Thank you for all the lovely reviews x**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sweeney Todd, its plot or its characters.**

**Chapter 8 – By the Sea**

The next night was the grand re-opening of Mrs Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium. It was the talk of the town. I had decided to help Nelly that night, as it would be so busy and just her and Toby wouldn't manage. Mr Todd agreed, as most of his customers would be at the re-opening. I had said I'd help him if a customer did come though.

Nelly and I had been shopping for new dresses. Nelly had chosen a glittering pink dress, with embroidery on the bodice. On the evening she slicked her hair down neatly into two (messy) bunches on the side of her head. She wore more make-up than usual and put on her favourite pair of lace gloves.

I was incredibly pleased with my outfit. It was pale blue, off-the-shoulder silk, with a lace overskirt. It complimented my hair, which I'd done in a chic plait, like all the trendy upper class women. I'd bought a new necklace, this one a silver chain with a small silver heart pendant. It was beautiful, and went with my dress. I finished with my usual coating of kohl.

As expected, it was incredibly busy. Toby stood outside; using the skills he'd learned advertising Pirelli's Miracle Elixir to advertise the shop. Meanwhile, Nelly and I rushed around, serving pies and pouring ale. After ten minutes, Toby came in to help.

"Ale there Sarah!"

"Yes ma'am!"

"Toby, throw that old woman out!"

I froze. Nelly had revealed something about the old beggar woman who wandered Fleet Street to me earlier.

* * *

"Last night Mr Todd was upset about Johanna again."

"Not Lucy?" she had asked.

"No, I think he's accepted she's dead."

At this, Nelly had gone pale. I'd asked what was wrong.

"There's something I ought to tell you love," she'd begun nervously. "She ain't dead. Lucy ain't dead."

"What?!"

"You know that old beggar woman who wonders around now and again?"

I nodded.

"That's Lucy. When she took arsenic I threw her out. I felt awful, but she was mad!"

I was shocked.

"Well, we've got to tell Mr Todd!"

"No!" she had gasped.

"He needs to know! She's his wife! And if he finds out, he'll be so angry with us."

"Then he won't find out…"

* * *

I tried to ignore the nagging feeling in my stomach and carry on. Eventually we were sold out, after just half an hour. Then Mrs Lovett nudged me.

There was a customer going up the steps to the barber shop.

"Do you mind?"

She shook her head.

I walked up to help.

"How's the re-opening?" Sweeney asked me, as his customer sat down.

"Brilliant, very successful," I answered, my mind elsewhere.

Through the whole time the customer was in the chair (which wasn't long) I was on another planet, feeling guilty about Lucy. I didn't even flinch when the blood spurted out of the man's neck.

"What is wrong with you?" asked Sweeney,

"What do you mean?"

"You've been somewhere else the whole time! Try and pay attention, will you?"

I nodded.

"Sorry, it's just…"

"What?"

"Nothing. You know, the pies are doing well, considering what they're made of."

"Don't start," he warned.

* * *

The next day was Sunday, and Nelly decided that we should go for a picnic to Primrose Hill. After much nagging, Sweeney agreed to come. It was a fine day, and I wore my white dress with sugar pink stripes on the skirt and a matching pink corset over the top. I hadn't worn this dress for ages, even though it was one of my favourites. I also wore my hair down, something I rarely did. When I met Nelly, Sweeney and Toby in the restaurant, Sweeney in particular looked shocked.

"You look…" he struggled for words. He wasn't really one for compliments.

"You look lovely, dear," smiled Nelly.

* * *

We walked to Primrose Hill, which wasn't that far away. We found a nice spot under a tree. Nelly and I set down a picnic blanket and we all sat down, except Toby, who wanted to fly his kite. We settled down, eating some of the biscuits that Nelly had made. And they were quite nice. Sweeney was sat in the middle of us two, and I noticed he was quiet. I didn't think anything of it though, as that was relatively normal. We slipped from topic to topic, talking of nothing in particular.

"That's not to say we couldn't get a few taxidermy animals to bring a touch of gentility to the place, you know, a boar's head or two."

I nodded, trying to suppress a smile. Then Mr Todd finally spoke.

"There must be a way to get to the Judge…"

"The Judge? Always harping on about the Judge!" A frustrated Nelly cried. "We've got a nice respectable business now," I snorted. Respectable wasn't quite the right word. "Money coming in regular-like. As long as you only kill strangers, people who aren't gonna be missed, who's gonna catch on?"

I began to say something, but was cut off by Nelly.

"You know, I've been thinking Mr T, don't you think it would be nice to move by the sea?" I felt a wave of protectiveness wash over me, and clutched onto his hand beside me. He didn't react, and I got the impression he wasn't listening. "It'll be nice and quiet, and beautiful of course. That's not to say that Toby and Sarah can't come too. And we can start a business over there. You know, Brighton or something," her voice became high pitched as she got carried away in her thoughts. "And what about a nice seaside wedding, eh? Wouldn't that be nice? What do you think Toby?" she asked as he sat down.

He shrugged. I knew he wasn't keen on Mr T.

"What about you Sarah?" she asked.

"I think you ought to ask Mr Todd what he thinks," I replied coldly.

"You're right love, I was getting carried away. What do you think Mr T?"

"Let's go," was his answer, and stood up.

I helped Nelly and Toby pack up. Nelly watched him walk away.

"I guess he wasn't too keen," she muttered sadly.

"I guess not," I replied. Then I asked something that had bothering me. "Why don't you just tell him about his wife? That's one of the reasons he's so grumpy and won't listen, he's still missing her. Just tell him the truth; he'll be so much happier. And can you imagine what he'd be like if he found out himself? He'd be crazy, and we'd be dead."

"Oh love, it's hard. And after all, that wouldn't make him want to move any more. If anything, he'd just want to stay with her. He'd be devastated to find out that she's some mad old hag."

"You think you love him so much," I said. "But if you truly loved him, you'd tell him the truth and be happy for him. Instead, you're selfish and just care about your feelings. I can't believe you Nelly. And I'm sorry, but that's the way I feel."

I walked away after Mr Todd, leaving Nelly with a shocked look on her face. She had made the mistake of thinking that she was the only person who cared for Mr Todd. Because over the last few weeks, I had really started to enjoy our strange little friendship. He was good company, and also seemed to care for me.

So then I decided that no one would come between us, ever. And maybe telling him about Lucy was a bad idea.

**Author's notes: Sarah's jealous! So, do you think that she's doing the right thing by not telling Sweeney - you'll find out what happens soon enough! Please review x**


	9. Nothing's Gonna Harm You

**Author's notes: Hope you enjoy this...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sweeney Todd, its plot or its characters.**

**Chapter 9 – Nothing's Gonna Harm You**

I made up with Nelly. Well, we pretended that nothing had happened. We also had a good friendship, and we didn't want that to be ruined.

It was a couple of days after Primrose Hill, and when I walked into the shop in the morning, I noticed something about Sweeney. He was just staring out of the skylight, not even turning to greet me. I walked up to him, to see his eyes almost glazed over with emotions. I decided it was best to ignore him.

A couple of hours later, Nelly walked in.

"I brought you some breakfast!" she called, happier than ever since her business started booming.

She set the tray down on the dresser, and looked at me, wondering what was wrong with Mr Todd.

"He's been like this all morning," I whispered. "He hasn't moved, hasn't spoken."

"Mr T, can I ask you a question?" She asked. It was as good an idea as any.

"What?" he muttered after a couple of seconds.

"What did your Lucy look like?" That wasn't such a good idea. He paused. "Can't really remember can you?" Nelly said sympathetically, walking towards him.

"She had yellow hair…"

"You've gotta put these times behind you now," she begun. Although she didn't seem like she was going to tell him our _very_ big secret, I had my suspicions. "She's gone. We could have a life, us two," seeing my warning glare, she added. "Not just us, Sarah and Toby too. Maybe not like you remembered, maybe not like I imagined, but we could get by. Life is for the alive my dear."

Sweeney turned to face her. He looked at me desperately. Luckily, we were both saved when Anthony ran through the door.

"Mr Todd!" he gasped. "He has her locked in a mad house."

"Johanna?" He asked, moving for the first time.

"Fog's Asylum," he informed us. "I've circled the place a dozen times, it's a fortress, there's no way in!"

"I've got him," he said, a smile creeping across his face. "We've got her."

"Mr Todd?"

"Where do you think the wigmakers of London go to obtain their hair? Bedlam, they get it from the lunatics at Bedlam."

Mr Todd seemed almost frightening, and would do if you had just met him, as he planned this out.

"I don't understand," said Anthony.

"We shall set you up as a wigmaker's apprentice," Sweeney told him. "That will gain you access. Then you take her! Now go, quickly, go!"

Anthony smiled, before rushing off.

"There you go Mr T!" I cried. "You'll have Johanna by the end of the day."

He nodded, before turning to Nelly.

"Fetch the boy."

"Don't you think you should leave the boy out of this?"

He glared at her, and she did as she was told.

"What are you going to do to him?" I asked nervously.

"I'm not going to hurt him, so don't worry."

He sat down at the dresser and pulled out a pen and a piece of paper. I watched him write (in surprisingly neat handwriting) a letter to the Judge, telling him that Johanna would be at the shop that night, and that he hoped Turpin would forgive him. I smiled – the plan was perfect.

Toby arrived just as he finished the letter. Mr Todd turned to him.

"Do you know where the Old Bailey is?"

"Yes sir, not that I've ever been there…"

"Take this there, seek out a Judge Turpin. Repeat that?"

"Go to the Old Bailey, find Judge Turpin."

Mr Todd nodded and handed him the letter.

"Put this in his hands, and only his, understand?"

"Yes sir. While I'm out, do you mind if I stop by the grocer's-"

"No. You are not to stop, you are not to speak. You are to take this to Judge Turpin. Now go."

I followed Toby out of the door and handed him a penny.

"Why don't you by yourself some toffee?" I told him.

"But Mr Todd said-"

"Don't worry about what he said. He won't find out. Off you go!"

"Thank you!"

I chuckled as he ran off, with a grin on his face a mile long.

* * *

I helped Mr Todd for the rest of the afternoon, but it was quite quiet. When it came to opening time for Nelly, I went to help her. To my surprise, Toby still wasn't back. Mrs Lovett hadn't seen him since this morning.

I changed into my new dress, stunning crimson with black lace flowers embroidered all over. I let my hair down again, and received many compliments.

It was very busy, the busiest it had been since the re-opening. Nelly and I were swept off our feet, rushing around, serving pies and drinks. Luckily for Nelly, Mr Todd didn't have any more customers.

When Mrs Lovett's finally closed, we went to relax in her sitting room. We had a drink together, and it wasn't long before she fell asleep. I settled down on a chair and started to read a book of hers I found lying around.

About an hour later, Toby arrived.

"Got some toffees?" I asked.

He nodded.

"Saved one for you," he smiled, offering me the last (rather sticky) toffee in the paper bag. I thanked him, and eat it, my teeth sticking together with every bite.

"Where you been, lad?" Nelly asked, almost crossly. She was never cross with Toby. "We had quite the rush at dinnertime."

"Mr Todd sent me on an errand," he explained. "And on the way back, I stopped by the workhouse. And I was thinking, but for you, I'd still be there now. Seems like the Good Lord sent you for me."

"Ah love; I felt quite the same way."

I watched the sweet scene before me. A stranger could easily believe they were mother and son.

"Listen to me, please," his voice became desperate now. "You know there's nothing I wouldn't do for you, say if there were something bad around…only you didn't know it."

"What are you talking about Toby?" I asked him gently.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is…I won't let anything harm you, either of you. I might not be smart, but I ain't dumb. And being clever ain't like being true."

"What is this nonsense?" Nelly muttered, standing up and admiring her curls in the mirror.

"Just things I've been thinking…about Mr Todd."

Both Nelly and I froze, looking at each other in fear.

"You believe me, don't you?"

"Of course love," she said, a forced smile on her face. "Now how about I give you a nice shiny new penny, and you get us some more toffees. You didn't save one for me!"

He smiled and nodded, but stopped when he saw the purse Nelly had pulled out.

"That's Signor Pirelli's purse!"

"No it isn't! Just something Mr T bought me for my birthday."

"That proves it ma'am, we've gotta find the Beadle and get the law here!" he cried, tugging on Nelly's hand.

She pulled him onto a chair, and hugged him tightly.

"Hush now darling, you're not going anywhere. How could you think such things about Mr T, when he's been so good to us? Come on love, nothing's gonna harm you."

She hugged him tightly, making me wonder if she had ever been a mother. It was believable.

"Funny, we should be having this little chat right now," she started, looking at us both. "Because, you know I keep saying that I'll let you come into the bakehouse with me? Well, no time like the present, eh?"

* * *

We followed her into the bakehouse. I had my suspicions about what she was going to do, but you could never tell for sure with Nelly. We walked down the stone steps, leading up to the large metal bakehouse door.

"I feel bad for you, having to go up and down these steps," he said.

"Well, that'll be your job now," she replied.

"Yes ma'am."

She opened the door, and let us in. The bakehouse was horrible, and smelt vile. This was obviously due to the rotting bodies, which she'd done a good job of hiding. It was dark and quite empty, with just a grinder and an oven.

"Quite a stink, ain't there?" noticed Toby.

"Those grates down there lead to the sewers," she explained, pointing to the metal grates, where a different smell was coming from. "This is the oven. Twelve at a time. Always make sure the door's shut properly."

I nodded, playing along and Toby went over what she had just said.

"This is the grinder. Pop in the meat," she demonstrated. "Give it a good grind, and the meat comes out here."

Toby had a go, repeating what she had just told him.

"That's my boy," she said, patting him on the back. "I'm just gonna pop in on a Mr T for a minute, back in two shakes, alright? Come with me please, Sarah."

"Mind if I have a pie while I wait?"

"As many as you like son," she answered, smiling sadly.

Together we walked out, locking the door behind us. She blinked back tears, and then said:

"We have to warn Mr T."

**Author's notes: Last chapter and epilogue, coming up! Please review x**


	10. Secrets Revealed

**Author's notes: Alright, Final chapter except for the epilogue - don't miss it, I'm posting it at the same time! Thank you to reviewers, readers, favouriters etc. This chapter is for all of you, and I hope you enjoy it x**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sweeney Todd, its plot or its characters.  
**

**Chapter 10 – Secret's Revealed**

"But if he escapes, he'll tell the law," Nelly explained, as all three of us ran down the steps from his shop.

"Then he won't escape," was his answer.

"I don't know, Mr Todd," I replied truthfully.

We reached the bottom step, to be greeted by the Beadle.

Nelly let out a small scream.

"Sorry sir, you gave me a fright."

"Not my intention good madam, I assure you," he smiled, walking towards us. "Although I am here on official business. There have been some complaints about the stink coming from your chimney. They say at night, it's something most foul."

We exchanged nervous glances. If he found out what was going on, we would all be in very deep trouble. It hit me hard, realising that I had been part of a mass murder plot, and hadn't told a soul. Why? Was it because of love?

"Now if you wouldn't mind, I would like to have a look at your bakehouse," he told us.

"Of course sir," said Sweeney, using his friendly voice. "But first, why don't you come upstairs, let me pamper you?"

The Beadle considered it.

"Much as I do appreciate your skills, my duties do come first-"

"I completely understand," interrupted Sweeney. Then, to my surprise, he leant in, sniffing the Beadle. "If you'll indulge me sir, what is that delightful aroma?"

The Beadle chuckled.

"My secret," he muttered.

"Dare I offer you something a tad more exotic?" asked Mr Todd.

Bamford considered it, looking like he was going to decline Sweeney's offer.

"The ladies will greatly appreciate it sir."

At this the Beadle's eyes lit up, and Sweeney knew he'd hit a soft spot.

"Only take a moment," he assured him. "Help me please, Sarah."

I followed them up the stairs, nerves gnawing away at my insides.

* * *

Sweeney did his usual job, lulling the Beadle into a false sense of security, before finishing him off with a quick, neat slit.

As he dropped the Beadle's hat down the chute, I heard something that made my blood run cold.

"Help! Let me out! Please!"

To my horror, the cries belonged to Toby.

"If he didn't know already, he definitely knows now," I warned him.

He nodded, and with that, we ran to the bakehouse door, where Nelly was waiting for us.

"He's scarpered," she whispered, her face paler than usual.

"Where could he be?" asked Sweeney, looking around the room.

"The sewers," I muttered.

It was the only place he could possibly be, and Nelly had assured us that she had checked all over. We lifted the grate, and (luckily we were all quite skinny) managed to slip through the hole into the sewers. I was overwhelmed by the stink, and lifted my crimson skirts off the slimy floor. We walked down the narrow walkway on either side of the small channel of water that ran through.

"Toby!" we called.

"Where are you hiding?" asked Nelly, using a sing-song voice. "Come on darling, nothing's gonna harm you!"

"Come on Toby!" I called.

* * *

After ten minutes of searching, we gave up. Sweeney and I went upstairs to wait for the Judge, while Nelly waited in the bakehouse.

We climbed up the steps, and I could tell that he was just as nervous as I was. This was his last chance.

As we neared the door, we heard someone's voice, a woman's.

"Beadle-deedle-dumpling, where are you?" she called, and I had the suspicions that she was slightly insane. Sweeney turned to me, pressing his finger to his lips. I nodded. We slowly crept to the door, and pried it open. And there stood the person I least wanted to see. Lucy Barker, the mad old beggar woman of Fleet Street. I was shocked at how terrible she looked compared to the beauty I had seen in the pictures. Her hair was now dirty and straggly, and she wore a tatty brown dress (who knew what its original colour was). Her eyes were wide with fear, and she was covered in sores, swellings and grime.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" he asked, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"Evil this is sir! The stink of evil from below, from her!" she cried, her voice a high pitched shriek. "She's the devil's wife, she is. Be wary of her sir, she with no pity in her heart."

"Mr Todd?" It was the Judge.

Sweeney looked from me, to Lucy, shock and fear in his eyes. Then he noticed something rather convenient: she was standing on the trap door. With a quick swipe, he cut her throat, and I watched in horror as a sheet of bright red spilled from her neck. He stamped on the peddle, and by the time the Judge entered, her body was gone, no evidence of what had just happened.

I felt tears form in my eyes, horrified to think of what he had just done. He had killed his wife, yet he didn't know it. I intended for it to stay that way however, and quickly blinked the tears away. I wondered where Johanna and Anthony were…

"Where is she?" asked the Judge.

"Below Your Honour, with my neighbour," Sweeney answered solemnly. "Thank heavens she's alright. Thank heavens too, that she has seen the error of her ways."

"She has?" asked the Judge, clearly not believing what he had just heard.

"Yes. She speaks only of you, longing for forgiveness."

"Then she shall have it…She'll be here soon, you say?"

"Yes sir," he replied. "How about a shave?"

That had to be the best job of acting I had ever seen, to play along with Turpin, the man he hated with all his heart.

"Sit sir, sit," he said, smiling through clenched teeth.

The Judge considered for a moment, before shrugging and sitting down. He sighed and took off his scarf.

Silently, Sweeney sharpened his razor, a dazed look on his face. I didn't bother getting any shaving cream, knowing that the Judge wouldn't be alive long enough to need it.

"How seldom it is one finds a fellow spirit," muttered the Judge.

"With fellow tastes…in women at least," was Sweeney's reply.

"What?" asked the Judge, confusion spreading across his face.

"The years no doubt have changed me sir," said Sweeney, lifting his razor. "But then I suppose the face of a barber, the face of a prisoner at the docks, is not particularly memorable."

The Judge studied him for a moment, before realisation dawned on him.

"Benjamin Barker," he whispered.

"Benjamin Barker!" yelled Sweeney, and he finally let out the hatred and anger he had been storing for fifteen years.

He plunged the blade repeatedly into Turpin's neck, blood spurting repeatedly. I stood as far back as possible, but it didn't stop the liquid from landing on my dress (though luckily it didn't show). When Sweeney was finally finished, he too was covered in blood. It was all over his shirt, face and hair, dying the white streak a faint shade of pink. It was even in his mouth.

"Could you make any more mess?" I gasped.

"Yes," he whispered, turning to the Judge, whose face was screwed up in pain. With one smooth movement, he slit his throat and sent him down the chute.

"It's over," I told him.

He nodded, setting his blood-covered razor on the chair. Suddenly, a movement form behind us made us both turn around.

The chest's - which had at one stage contained Pirelli's body – lid was opened slightly, and a blue eye was peering out at us.

Sweeney moved to the chest and opened the lid, pulling out a young boy who couldn't have been more than sixteen.

"Come for a shave lad? Everyone needs a good shave," Sweeney said menacingly, tossing the boy into the chair.

"No, I-"

Sweeney held up the razor, and I watched in shock as the blade glinted in the moonlight.

A scream cut through the silence.

"Nelly," I realised.

"Forget my face," Sweeney warned the boy, and then left the shop quickly.

I was about to follow him, and then decided to take a look at the boy. Underneath a cap, there was blonde hair, and stunning blue eyes. In fact, he looked remarkably like a girl, with pale skin and full lips. Very much like Lucy, in fact…

"Oh my goodness, you're Johanna!" I realised.

"How did you know?" she asked.

"You look like your mother," I told her sadly, and then ran out of the door. I had no time to think about Johanna right then.

* * *

I reached the bakehouse just seconds after Sweeney.

"Why did you scream?" he asked Nelly.

"Oh, he was clutching onto my dress, but he's finished now," she explained, gesturing towards Turpin. I noticed she was dragging Lucy towards the oven, she must have realised too.

"I'll deal with it," he muttered. "Open the door. Open the door I said!" he cried, pushing her towards the oven when she ignored him the first time. She did as she was told, tears forming in her eyes. I realised what a dangerous situation I was in. It was entirely possible that Sweeney would realise, and he would not be happy. So as much as it pained me, I decided to leave. I loved Sweeney, I loved Nelly and I didn't wish anything bad upon either of them, but I was innocent in this mess. And I had to leave while I still could.

I was making my way upstairs, when I heard Sweeney's voice.

"'Don't I know you,' she said. You knew she lived."

In my safe place at the top of the stairs, I could see that a shaft of light had fallen on Lucy's face.

"I was only thinking of you," she said, sounding almost as sad as Mr Todd.

"You lied to me," he muttered, hurt and sadness evident in his voice.

"I didn't lie Mr T," she begun. "I said she took the poison, and she did, but I never said that she died. The poor thing lived, but it left her weak in the head. She should have been in hospital, but ended up in Bedlam."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because I love you! I'd be twice the wife she was, that thing could never have cared for you like me!"

"What have I done?"

She was crying now, tears rolling down her cheeks. Then Sweeney turned to face her.

"Come here," he told her, yet in a (relatively) friendly voice.

She stared at him in disbelief.

"Do you mean it?" He nodded. "I swear, everything we did-"

"We?" he asked suddenly.

She nodded.

"Sarah and I," I gasped in horror, she had just told him that I'd known! She carried on however: "Anyway, we just thought it was for the best. Can we still be married?"

"Of course!" he cried, scooping her into his arms and waltzing her around the room. "What's dead is dead! And life is for the alive my dear, so let's keep living it!"

"Really living it!" she laughed.

Time then froze for a moment, for me at least. Because, as they neared the oven, he tossed her in. I watched in shock as she struggled and screamed, losing the battle and finding herself in the flames. I watched, feeling physically sick, as she kicked, her flesh blackening. Finally Sweeney shut the door, locking it. He took one last look through the tiny hatch, before shutting it firmly. Eventually her screams died away.

He turned in my direction, his eyes widening when he realised that I was standing on the stairs. I tried to move, but my feet were frozen to the spot.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, furiously.

I walked towards him.

"Because I loved you, and I couldn't bear to see your heart broken."

I heard a clattering behind me, but ignored it. I braced myself, knowing that I would die right then, but to my surprise; he dropped his razor, and fell beside Lucy.

"She was so beautiful," he whispered.

I watched sadly, looking up in surprise when I saw Toby creep up behind him, Sweeney's dropped razor in hand. I couldn't do anything to stop him. In fact, I think Sweeney knew that Toby was behind him.

He lifted his head, accepting what came next. I tried to shut my eyes, but couldn't as Toby swung the razor across the Demon Barber of Fleet Street's neck. His eyes widened in surprise, and then he slumped, slowly, over Lucy, his blood mingling with hers on the floor.

I looked sadly at Toby.

"Come on," I said, wrapping my arm around him. "Let's go."

**Author's notes: THE END (almost). Poor, poor Sweeney, poor Mrs L (I suppose). I really hope you enjoyed it x**


	11. You Found Me

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sweeney Todd, its plot, its characters or the song You Found Me.**

**Epilogue – You Found Me**

_You found me_

_When no one else was looking_

_How did you know just where I would be?_

_You broke through all of my confusions_

_The ups and the downs _

_And you still didn't leave_

_I guess that you saw what nobody could see_

_You found me_

Kelly Clarkson

I found a place to stay, and looked after Toby. I found a job, and we got by. Sweeney never left my thoughts, but I had no hard feelings towards Toby for what he had done. Sweeney was probably happier now, in heaven with Lucy. But he had been a sort of hero for me, there when no one else was. And both Toby and I were mourning for the loss of Nelly. She was a dear, and we loved her.

The bodies of him and Lucy were found, but there was no knowledge of relatives so no funeral was held.

I don't know what happened to Anthony and Johanna, yet I can only hope that they are happy.

The police never had any idea about what happened. I was part of one of the biggest mass-murdering plots in London, yet no one knew, and I hadn't done a thing to stop it.

The Judge's and the Beadles' bodies were found too, and it was assumed as an accident. I don't understand, but if there were any suspicions, they didn't matter. Sweeney was dead.

I'm still haunted by memories from the weeks I spent with Sweeney. I see Mark every now and then, but don't speak to him. I don't feel like I'll ever speak to another man again right now.

I have dreams, some good, some bad, but all I know is this: I loved Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street.

**Author's notes: THE END!!!!! Thank you readers, reviewers, favouriters, Tim Burton (you rock!), Johnny Depp (you rock too), Helena Bonham Carter (and you rock) and Kelly Clarkson for the cool song. Sorry if I forgot anyone...I hope you're happy with the way it ended, please let me know. If you've been reading but haven't reviewed, I'd love to know what you thought (hint hint). Love you all - savvy bizbie xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**


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